A Little Chat
by AwesomeFish
Summary: Garen has a drink with a certain outrageous champion. A semi crackish One-shot.


He was free. Finally, after a week of unceasing torture, he was free. He breathed in the air with a new found bounce in his step. It seemed much sweeter than usual, and was a deeply pleasant thing to behold. And with the sun setting on another day in the courtyard of the Demacian Palace, he knew it was time for a little celebration. A familiar voice rang out from behind him,

'Garen, you're looking awfully cheerful this evening. What's the occasion?' He turned to see the setting sun gleam off his long-time friend's golden armor.

'It's Monday.' He replied with a smile.

'Yes, I'm aware. What's so special about today?'

'It's the day someone else gets summoned by novice summoners, and not me. My week is done.' The Prince let out a hearty laugh and joined Garen in his walk,

'Surely it wasn't that bad.'

'I don't think I've ever seen so much of my own blood. The only good thing about the whole mess was that I got to gut Du Courteu's little assassin thing again and again.'

'You're doing your part for Demacia, and that's the only thing that matters. Why don't you join the royal court for dinner? I'm sure Xin Zhao would like to hear of your trials and tribulations.' Garen shook his head,

'Not today friend. I feel as if a good bit of relaxation is in order. I'm not scheduled for any sort of League events for a while, and the Vanguard seems to be running smoothly, so I'm going to have a good time while I can.'

'A good time?'

'Good food, good drink, and good company. If I can find all three, I'll be happy.' A large marble arch passed over their heads, signalling the divide between royalty and the street. The Prince stopped in his tracks,

'Well you have fun then. Farewell friend.'

'Farewell my Prince.' Jarvan chuckled at his formal sentiment, before turning and walking back to the palace. He too then set off on his quest.

He looked for the perfect bar. One that was simple, but not tacky. Nondescript, yet not a brothel. He didn't want to attract too much attention to himself, which was hard enough when you were dressed in bulky golds, blues and whites. He found what he was looking for in the form of an unremarkable wooden structure on the corner of the street. The scent of fresh stew hung in the air, enticing him to the door.

The inside was as plain as the out. There were a few people sitting on the various tables of the tavern, none of them paying him any mind when he entered. Surveying the ordinary patrons, he found his eyes being caught by glistening blue angles.

'Taric?' He asked, walking up to the bar, 'Is that you?' It wasn't a real question though. His garb was so unique that anyone could spot him in a crowd. The man turned and answered, his voice managing to be deep and resounding, yet somehow existing on a whisper's worth of breath,

'Hello Garen. How are you?' Noticing a stool vacant next to him, Garen made himself comfortable,

'I'm well, at least I am now. I've had a horrid week with the League. What about yourself?'

'Fine… I have also been okay.' The man flicked his long locks over his shoulder, the hair seeming to take an age to float back down and settle.

Garen opened his mouth to speak, but he could find no words. He wished to ask the man about the goings on in his life, but as he trawled through his mind he realized something. He hardly knew the man. Here he was, sitting across from a man that he'd fought with and against for years, and yet he knew nothing more about him other than he thought gems were 'outrageous.' After he flagged down the bartender and ordered a drink, he made his thoughts public,

'You know what Taric? I feel as if we've never gotten a chance to talk to each other. I've conversed with most of the other champions to some degree, and yet I've never really sat down and talked with you.'

'That's because I prefer my own company to the company of others.' Garen grabbed the glass mug from the bartender,

'Why's that?' Taric sighed,

'People always ask the same questions, over and over again. Especially the summoners. So most of the time I prefer to be alone…' Garen was silent, taking a tentative sip from his jug. He wondered if he should excuse himself and leave, but before he could decide, Taric shot him a glance. He was quick to dispel the uncomfortable air, 'I do not mind that you are here though. If you wish to talk, let us talk.'

'Oh, okay then.' He had to think for a second, picking and choosing his questions. He started simple, 'What brings you to Demacia?' Taric took a drink from his own mug.

'I go wherever I am needed. I will stay in Demacia for a few days, and then I will move on.'

'Have you enjoyed it here so far?'

'It is… nice. Not many gems to look at though, unless they are on people's fingers. Such a waste.'

'A waste?'

'Yes, gems are powerful things. At least they are where I come from. It seems a shame that they sit idly on fingers and around necks…' Another fact caught his attention after he heard this. He actually knew something else about the man,

'That's right. You're not of our world, are you?' Taric seemed to sadden at the question. He downed the rest of his mug in one gulp, and signaled to the bartender for a refill.

'Yes… I am not of Runeterra. I would tell you of my homeland, but I do not think there's enough time in the night. Or enough gold in my pockets.' Garen laughed, but caught himself almost instantly. Taric's expression was gravely solemn, no humor possibly being able to exist on his face.

He tried to think of what the man's home world might've been like. He imagined there were gems. Lots and lots of gems. It would probably be too shiny for his liking. And spiky. It wouldn't be pleasant walking around there with no boots on. The people of the place seemed human enough though, if Taric was the stereotypical male of his race. His thoughts were quick to become serious when he looked over the man's expression once more. Did he come to this place willingly, or was he forced? Who exactly did he have to leave behind in coming here? What of his friends and family? Did he have children? A wife? Or maybe…

He shook his head, quickly simplifying his questions,

'Do you miss your home world?'

'I…' He watched the man shift uncomfortably on his stool, 'More so than usual, yes.'

'If you want to have an ear for your troubles,' Garen replied, 'I can be that ear.' He didn't answer, choosing instead to drink from his mug. It was gone almost as quickly as it had come, and he was again asking for a refill.

'I don't know why I bother with your alcohol.' He murmured, brushing away a stray hair, 'I have never been able to experience what you call intoxication, and I do not know of an equivalent for my people.' Garen put a reassuring hand on the man's shoulder,

'Now I _know_ something's troubling you. Talk to me friend.' Taric took a deep breath, getting ready to put all his troubles on the table,

'I like your world, I really do. Sometimes I may wish I was back home, but I know that I must stay here. I have always believed that everything happens for a reason. And the reason I was brought to this place is simple, to protect those who cannot do it themselves.' He paused when his mug was handed back to him. Garen expected him to drink it all in one go, but instead he swirled the liquid in the glass, watching it as he continued, 'I wished to live a modest life here, but colorful gems and a whimsical past make me a target for… prying minds.' He locked his stare onto Garen, his blue eyes seeming to glow ever brighter under the dim tavern light,

'People judge me by their own standards. Summoners laugh at the 'quirks' I hold so dear. My way of dress, a symbol of my home world, is ridiculed by ignorance. Most of the time I can laugh it off… But not right now. I do not know why, but I just cannot seem to ignore it today.' Garen watched the man's hand shake ever so slightly. He was losing his composure.

'Some summoners can be very toxic,' He replied, 'And I'm sorry to hear that you've been treated poorly.' And he _did_ feel sorry. He himself had laughed about the man behind his back before. Nothing more than a little jab, but if similar little jabs had affected him so greatly, then he had to feel sorry for the man.

'Sometimes the ignorance of your people… Sometimes it… It…' His eyes darted about the room, looking for the words he was so desperately trying to say.

'Go ahead.' Garen said, low and soothing, 'I'm listening.' The gem knight's voice dropped to a whisper,

'…It sickens me.'

'What?'

'Yes…' His expression brightened, almost as if he'd had a major epiphany, 'It makes me utterly sick to my stomach. Your people, they throw words about as if they mean nothing. They do mean something, and they can be more powerful than any sort of weapon or magic. How weakness can be found in the fact someone likes precious, powerful stones is beyond me. Why you question my… my sexuality is beyond me.'

'Some people are just too direct.' Garen reassured him.

'How does one's sexuality denote ridicule?' His voice was loud. Well, relatively loud compared to his normal level of speaking, 'I did not even know of the words 'gay' or 'straight' before coming to this place. And how does it change a person? How?'

Garen didn't know what to say. Probably because it was a question he'd never been asked before. Honestly, he had always wondered about Taric, not that he'd think anything less of him for the way he swung. But he was curious. Not as direct as some people, but still very curious. And he wanted to help the man, so he said the first thing that came to his mind,

'Well, what would you call yourself? Maybe if you put it out there… people would stop asking.' The man's mug hit the bar, a strange look on his face. He forcefully stood from his barstool, the sound of it knocking his giant hammer to the floor capturing the attention of those in the bar.

'This.' He said through a clenched jaw, 'This is the question I loathe. But like everyone else, you are ever so nosy, aren't you?' He turned to everyone staring at him, 'Fine then. If you are all so curious, I shall tell you. No, I am not straight in your people's terms.'

_I knew it._

Garen had solved another mystery. He'd have to file the fact away with all the other things he knew about the champions of the League. He felt happy that he'd been able to help get it off the man's chest. Sure it was blatantly obvious, but having it out in the open put his curiosity at ease. And being able to help always made him feel much better.

'Alright Taric,' Garen said, reaching for the man's stool, 'you can sit-'

'-I am not done yet.' He snapped, 'No, I am not gay in your people's terms.'

_What..?_

'And no, I am not bisexual in your people's terms.'

'Then what are you?' One of the men in the bar called out. Taric paused, his emotions still boiling under the surface. He tried his best to compose himself before he replied, 'Where I come from, there is no such thing as 'sexuality.' My people…'

Garen sat on the edge of his stool, finding himself much more invested in the reveal than he probably should've been. He waited for what seemed like an eternity, watching the man gather the right words in his mind,

'My people reproduce asexually.'

Garen could not begin to describe the sight that followed in words. Needless to say, Taric Junior was not well received.

* * *

**A/N: My headcanon is weird...  
**


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